


Detox

by IAmATree78



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmATree78/pseuds/IAmATree78
Summary: One week after she lets her go, Diana keeps her promise and sets out to hunt down Isabel Maru.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an angsty follow-up (of sorts) to my fic Tear You Apart, but I don't think it's a necessity to read that first. I'm fascinated by this ship! Let me know what y'all think!

One week after she had let her go, Diana arrived at the door of Isabel Maru’s last known residence. She didn’t expect her to be there, but it was as good a place to start as any. Frankly, she was surprised the building was still standing. She had been sure that after Dr. Maru decided not to be found she would destroy all evidence she ever existed to ensure she stayed safe and hidden. 

 

The door was unlocked, which wasn’t really a shock. When she opened it, she found a modestly furnished sitting room littered with loose paper, some of it crumpled or torn. Everything, including the mess of paper, was coated in a fine layer of dust. A mug of tea sat cold and forgotten on the table amidst the disaster, a rare glimpse of humanity Diana hadn’t expected. She couldn’t gauge her reaction to it just yet, couldn’t pin down how she felt trying to reconcile the Maru she’d seen killing and begging and  _ growling _ , with a woman who would sit and have a cup of tea to calm her nerves as she scattered her life’s work across the parlor. Venturing farther, Diana saw that the small fireplace opposite the door held a heap of ashes. Upon closer the hearth held charred books, journals, scraps of paper with half-sentences in the same coded language as the journal they’d brought back to England. It was proof that perhaps Maru had tried to clean up after all.

 

But everything was quiet. After she tracked down Maru maybe she could alert someone in the military and they could find something of use in the wreckage.  _ Then again, _ she thought somberly,  _ Anything they find here would certainly be a weapon. It could mean more war. More death.  _ Perhaps instead she would finish what Maru had started.

 

She walked quietly through the rooms. She had asked the landlady about her tenant, her history, what she knew. All she had been able to tell Diana was that the room had come furnished and it had been paid through for a year the day the masked woman arrived. The landlady had no clue who she was housing. 

 

_ “She kept quiet, never caused me any trouble except a few nights here and there. Those nights she would yell like she was talking to someone but she never had any guests and she never asked to connect a phone line to her room.”  _

 

_ “Do you know what she was saying? Who she seemed to be speaking to?” _

 

_ “I couldn’t understand any of it. Some other language, I think.” _

 

What the landlady couldn’t say, the apartment itself was no closer to revealing. The sitting room and the hallway to the kitchen held no clues. No pictures, no artwork, no decor that seemed in any way “personal”. The walls were so close, the space itself as small as its occupant. Diana grazed the green and cream striped wallpaper of the hall with her fingertips as she walked through. She paused and popped her head into the kitchen.

 

Mugs and glasses filled the sink, some with brown rings stained into them, but there were no plates to be seen. Diana opened cupboards until she found them: A single stack of mismatched plates that must have come with the flat, all dustier than they should have been for a week away. She wondered if Maru ever ate. Had she been subsisting on nothing but tea all these months?

 

Closing the cupboard she started opening others in search of food. A half-empty box of pasta; an old loaf of molding bread with a chunk ripped off; an empty box of crackers; nothing in the fridge but a mostly-empty milk bottle, some rotting eggs, and a few suspicious chemical flasks.  _ What kept her going? _ There was no way she’d have taken her food with her when she left. This is all that had been here. Diana shook herself and left the kitchen, feeling increasingly uneasy. 

 

The bathroom was practically sterile, the only thing in the apartment that seemed clean, orderly, used only for its intended purpose. There was soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a few tubes of some kind of ointment in the cabinet behind the mirror.  _ For her scars _ , Diana realized.

 

For a moment she let herself imagine a small, self-conscious Dr. Maru-- _ Isabel _ , her mind whispered--looking at herself in this mirror and carefully tending to her scarred face, her fingers rubbing gingerly at old wounds. A quiet, lonely woman, working tirelessly and coming home only to shower, to sleep, to carefully prepare herself for another day at war. For some reason her chest tightened at the idea of this possible version of Isabel. She pocketed the scar cream and closed the medicine cabinet, avoiding her own face in the mirror.

 

The bedroom door was closed when she finally came to it. Despite the empty flat, she opened the door quietly, feeling a sort of reverence for this shrine to some impossible Isabel.

 

What she found inside was the most heartbreaking to her. Clothing was scattered across every surface in the room. She wouldn’t have thought a woman like Maru to own so much clothing, much less anything in such light colors, but there were dresses, blouses, underthings, and even a pink silk bathrobe draped on a chair in the corner of the room. A mouse scurried away from a half-eaten sandwich on the floor as Diana approached. The pile on the bed was large, a near-mountain made up of more than clothing. For the first time there was a sign of something personal. A few pieces of jewelry, folded letters yellowed with age, and in the far corner peeking out from behind a pillow was what seemed to be a photo album. She came closer and slid the album out gently. It was a small black book, but when she opened it her suspicions were confirmed.

 

A beaming, smartly dressed couple looked up at her from the first page. They were clearly her parents. She had her father’s eyes and her mother’s dark hair and she could only guess that she had once had her mother’s smile. Photos of a smiling young Isabel in lace and bows, family trips, Isabel’s mother smirking in a garden. She traced her fingers over a photo of Isabel, a teenager, curled into an armchair by a window and reading, completely absorbed in her book and oblivious to the photographer.

 

A small square photograph slipped out and fell to the floor. It was a portrait of a woman with light hair and clear, bright eyes, smiling serenely and looking off slightly to the left. The edges of the photograph were worn yet it wasn’t faded. It had been handled often and with extreme care. She turned it over, hoping for an explanation, but there was nothing. She placed it back into the book and scanned the room. 

 

_ How could she leave such precious things behind? _

 

She supposed that when one’s life was threatened they must have to make hard choices--sacrifices. But knowing that Isabel Maru owned such things made her feel… confused. Lost. The woman had killed thousands in cold blood. She had manipulated a moment of Diana’s rage into a moment of weakness and used her mercy for selfish gains. And still, the image of Maru spread on the warehouse floor, small,  _ wanting _ , was seared into her mind. Diana had been just as hungry, just as willing. It had made her feel powerful to know that the cold and practical doctor had such human desires and that she could bring them out.

 

Sighing, Diana placed the book on the bedside table, pushing another mug of cold tea out of the way, and sat down on the bed. 

 

She jumped up immediately and spun around, pushing clothing out of the way to see what she had sat on, praying to the gods her fears weren’t true. Pulling back the blanket, Diana gasped at the figure lying underneath it all. Her heart stopped in her chest as she looked down on the small body curled in on itself, still wrapped in the jacket she’d been wearing when Diana last saw her.

 

“Isabel?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than the last chapter, but I rewrote this three times before I realized I'd never post it unless I, like, actually just wrote the damn thing. I brain-dumped on the train home today and this is the version I liked best despite its lack of length.
> 
> Thank you so much for the Kudos and comments I am so so grateful that you all exist and enjoy this <3

_ “Isabel?” _

 

It took a moment for Isabel to open her eyes and focus on the figure in front of her but once she did she was wide awake. She reared up like a cornered animal and kicked herself as far from Diana as she could get, sliding off the side off the bed and pressing herself against the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

Diana recovered quickly from her initial shock. “I keep my promises Dr. Maru. I told you I would find you.”

“Yes, but you said I had time!” Her breathing was erratic and Diana couldn’t help but watch as her chest rose and fell rapidly. The hair in her face added to her deranged appearance. She clutched her jacket tighter around her with one hand and pointed at Diana with the other. “A week. You said I had a week.” 

“Yes.”

“Then why are you here?”

“The week… It’s passed.” Diana didn’t bother to hide her confusion but the concern that edged her voice surprised them both. Isabel’s eyes widened and she hesitated, glancing away for a moment before puffing herself up again and glaring at the other woman.

“Liar!” She rasped. “It’s only been a few days at most.” But there was uncertainty in her voice. Diana frowned and stared at Isabel. The torn coat, the blood crusted onto the side of her face, her hair, and even the smell of sweat and skin lingering in the air gave her away.

“You don’t know what day it is. You’ve been locked away in here for a week with no idea how much time has passed. You haven’t moved in days, have you?” Isabel’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a small flicker of fear starting in her eyes.

“You did this to me didn’t you?”

“Did what, Isabel?”

“You brought them back and you came to torment me.”

“Brought what back? Is that why you’re still here?”

“I am here because you used whatever power you have to torture my every moment of rest!” She stepped toward the bed on still-shaky legs and Diana saw her eyes start to well with tears. “You brought those… visions. Those people. You made me see them again. I haven’t slept in days because of  _ you. _ ” It was clear that whatever she was seeing had shaken her. The cold, clinical monster that was Doctor Poison was slowly crumbling away to reveal the terrified woman beneath.

“Isabel-”

“Stop saying that!”

“Your name?”

“You are not allowed to call me that.” Diana held up her hands and stepped around the bed towards Isabel.

“Dr. Maru, please. I am not here to hurt you. You are not well. You need to eat and you need to rest.”

“What I need is for you to leave me alone! It can’t have been a week. It’s not enough that you’re in my head but now you come into my home and lie to me! I won’t...” she swayed unsteadily and took a deep breath. “You are not…” She stopped mid sentence and furrowed her brow. She took one step and reached out, and her arm slid clumsily across the wall as she collapsed. Diana was quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground.

She was still alive, still breathing, but Diana knew she was in even worse shape than she looked. Brushing the hair from her face, she marveled at how small Isabel was and how quickly the cruel, calculating woman who had seduced her in the warehouse had come apart at the seams. Her intention had been to bring this woman in to the authorities, make her answer for her crimes and feel the remorse she had so vehemently denied when they last spoke. But it seemed her mission had changed. 

Rather than destroying Isabel Maru, Diana looked down at her face--still bloody but soft in her unconsciousness--and she vowed to save her from herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely feedback! Writing for these two is a dream and your comments and kudos make it all the better. x

_“Isabel!”_

_She squeezed her eyes shut against the images but the man smacked her hard._

_Even when she opened her eyes she could hardly see for tears. Screams echoed in the room and she pulled against the chair’s restraints._

_“Please,” she said. “Please!” He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him, just inches away._

_“Have you decided to reconsider, Doctor Maru?”_

Isabel jerked awake, twisting around and groaning when the room seemed to sway around her. She pressed her eyes shut again. She’d made out the living room wallpaper through the daze. So she’d been moved. She could hear the soft crackling of the fireplace and feel the blanket that covered her. The couch was solid beneath her, almost too solid for comfort. She could feel the stiff upholstery grating her legs and the weight of her body seemed to be holding her down like lead. Everything felt too harsh and too present despite the swimming feeling in her skull.

Fighting the weakness in her bones, she swatted the blanket away and pushed herself upright. When her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes again. She was still wearing nothing but her jacket. The morning’s events came back to her. _Diana._ She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. To her surprise it was smooth and untangled. There was a hairbrush on the coffee table. Had Diana brushed her hair?

She looked around and saw that her scattered notes had been cleaned up and piled neatly on the table next to her hairbrush and a mug of tea. She reached out and found that it was still warm, freshly made and left for her by her thoughtful intruder. Some long-dormant thing in her chest stretched and yawned.

Isabel recoiled. No. This wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t stay and be coddled by a righteous princess.

She stood up and made for the bedroom but didn’t make it more than two steps before the world tilted and her legs gave out. She fell to her hands and knees and immediately there was a warm presence at her side. Irritated, she slapped away Diana’s gentle hands.

“Why are you still here?” She sat up straight and fixed Diana with as harsh a glare as she could muster.

“You need help.”

“I told you earlier-”

“You need to eat. Come sit on the couch and I’ll bring you some soup.”

“Don’t tell me what to-” Isabel gasped as Diana lifted her and carried her back to the couch.

“Stay here. I’ll bring you the soup.” Isabel opened her mouth but nothing came out. Diana walked down the hall to the kitchen.

It was almost too easy to forget how powerful Diana was when she was in her modest human costume. The show of strength had certainly shaken Isabel. She told herself that it was only hunger causing the twisting feeling in her stomach.

She crossed her arms and leaned back, staring into the fire. Diana returned with a steaming bowl and set it on the table in front of Isabel.

“Eat.” Isabel turned and looked at her fully for the first time since this morning. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun and over her white blouse and long wool skirt she wore a very familiar black and white striped apron.

“Where did you get that?” Isabel asked quietly.

“It was hanging in the kitchen.”

“Take it off.”

“I was cooking, I thought-”

“Take it off.” Isabel struggled to keep her voice steady. Her vision was already clouded with moisture. Diana did as she was told and Isabel snatched it from her hands, holding it tightly in her lap and looking back at the fire. There was a long and tense silence. Diana’s concern was palpable in the air and she made no move to leave. Isabel huffed and rolled her eyes. “If I promise to eat, will you leave?”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Diana sat down on the couch next to her. “I don’t trust you. And I have good reason not to. You won’t eat if I leave. You will either try to run or you will go back to your room and starve yourself to death. I cannot allow that. I will stay and make sure you eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Isabel lied. She turned from staring into the fire to frown at her unwelcome guest.

“Lying to me will not make me leave. I’m hesitant to use the Lasso of Truth on you after our last incident, but if I must-”

“No. That won’t be necessary.” Isabel said quickly.

“Then you will eat.”

“Yes,” Isabel sighed. She picked up the bowl of soup and held it warily in front of her. “What is it?”

“Soup.”

“You’ve said. What kind?”

“What does it matter?”

Isabel sighed yet again and looked down at the bowl. It smelled divine, fitting as it had come from the divine being beside her. Her mouth watered. Still, her stomach was in knots and she found herself nauseous at the thought of actually eating any of it. She frowned at the bowl for a long time.

“You don’t have to eat all of it if-”

“What are you, my mother?” Isabel muttered.

“No, you just-”

“Fine! I’ll eat it.” She took a deep breath and lifted the spoon to her mouth, slowly sipping the broth. It tasted as good as it smelled. As the warmth traveled down her throat, she found herself feeling slightly better. She got through half the bowl before it became too much. She set it down and Diana smiled at her.

“Perfect. Small steps, Isabel.” She rubbed Isabel’s back, only stopping when Isabel had tensed completely, eyes wide and staring.

“And now you may leave,” she said coldly. Diana hesitated before pulling her hand back into her lap.

“No. I will be staying.”

“I ate the soup, you said you would leave.” Diana shook her head.

“I never said that.”

“It was implied,” Isabel hissed.

“Well either way, it’s not true. I am going to stay until you are well again.”

“ _There is nothing wrong with me!_ ” Isabel’s voice echoed through the small apartment. Diana didn’t know how to respond. Isabel saved her the trouble by flipping the small table, sending the rest of her soup across the floor and halfway up the opposite wall, and stalking down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door and sat on the clean edge of her bed. Nothing had been moved since yesterday. Clothing still covered the room and her belongings were in the places she’d left them. It was an organized chaos, she reasoned to herself. It wouldn’t have passed in her lab, the meticulously cleaned and categorized space, but it was good enough for home. There was nothing wrong with it. She was still in control here. Wasn’t she?

She curled up on the bed and buried her face into her pillow. She was fine. She was completely fine.

\------------------------------

In Diana’s opinion that had gone well. At the very least it was better than she expected. She looked to her side at the apron Isabel had left balled up on the couch. Why had she been so upset to see Diana wear it? She wondered what Isabel was still hiding. She had been talking in her sleep, begging and crying.

Diana had seen this before, a deep personal grief that had affected many of her sisters over her years on Themyscira. In some it never truly left, but she knew it would eat Isabel alive if she let it. Whatever had brought this behavior on was Diana’s fault in some way, she was sure. But rather than wallow in it, she decided to fight even harder for Isabel’s sake.

She rose from the couch and grabbed the apron, hanging it carefully back on its hook in the kitchen before grabbing a rag to clean up the mess Isabel had left in her wake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not forgotten about you all! The last few months have been a whirlwind of a new job and seasonal depression (and regular depression) and The Shape of Water completely destroying my life and rebuilding it again but I have finally recovered from the holiday season and now that I'm functioning again, I'm WRITING! If any of you have been waiting, I am sorry for the delay and so glad you haven't given up.
> 
> There's a description of a sudden anxiety attack in this chapter if anybody has issues with that, be careful y'all.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I hope I haven't wandered too far away from the story you were waiting for, but let me know what you think either way!

It had been a few hours since the incident in the living room and Isabel had been staring at the wall ever since. She could hear Diana moving about the apartment, arranging her scattered papers again, running water and cleaning her dishes, opening and closing cabinets. A few times she had come to the bedroom door and paused just outside before pacing back down the hallway. But things had been quiet for a while now and Isabel was far from sleep.

Now that she had eaten, her brain had begun to refocus. She had been lying in filth for a week and it was finally starting to get to her. 

_ Get up. _

She could hear her own voice in her head, urging her to move, but she stayed put.

_ Get out of bed. _

Nothing. Her head began to buzz with frustration.

_ Get up and deal with yourself, you animal! _

Another ten minutes of internal arguing passed before she finally flung herself to the edge of the bed and sat up quickly. If she forced herself to keep moving, she could get clean and organize herself--come up with some sort of plan. She stood and walked through the dark to the dresser, her hand reaching blindly for where she knew her lamp would be. She flicked it on and the sight of the mess she’d made almost stopped her in her tracks. 

To see one’s life as it is, all its contents scattered and piled in one room… Everything she had kept locked away for years was spread out before her and the reality of how little she had left, how little she had to show for her existence, how little she had truly lived before she’d become this… thing… It was overwhelming to say the least.

_ Don’t you dare.  _ She dragged her traitorous brain back from the edge of despair. _ Ignore it and keep moving. _

Shaking herself, she spied the corner of a towel in the mess and pulled it free. She took a deep breath. As quietly as possible, she opened the door and stepped swiftly down the hall and into the bathroom. The click of the door latch, the turning of the faucet, the sound of the water, everything was too loud. She didn’t want to wake Diana and face her again in this state of weakness, but she had to keep going. She had to start somewhere. 

The tub filled slowly, heat rising off the water. Isabel watched it ripple as she peeled away her jacket. The way the lining clung to her body told her that her negligence had likely ruined it once and for all. The thought was filed away for her to be irritated with herself later. Getting clean was the priority.

She stepped into the tub and let herself sink into the water. It was hot enough to burn but she forced herself to stay put, letting the sensation ground her. There was a certainty in her mind that this was a punishment as well. She had let herself go and now that she had come back, she needed to remind herself that it was an unwelcome departure. She was not allowed to become lost in the past. The darkness behind her had to stay there, despite its sudden and insistent presence in her mind. All that mattered right now was taking care of herself and figuring out how she was going to get away from the Amazon holding her hostage. She grabbed the washcloth from over the faucet and began scrubbing the sweat from her skin. 

She couldn’t stay here. If there were any good time to escape it would be now, while the goddess slept.  _ Surely she must sleep?  _ But even if she rushed and managed to sneak past without waking Diana, she had no idea where she might go. There wasn’t a city in the world where a woman with half a face wouldn’t draw unwanted attention or stick in the memory of the people she passed along the way. Witnesses would remember and sell her out in an instant if Diana came asking after her--and Isabel had the sinking feeling that she would be pursued to hell and back if it came to it. Besides, Diana wouldn’t be the only one looking for her after all she’d done.

Satisfied, and slightly raw from scrubbing, Isabel replaced the washcloth and leaned back to wash her hair. Running her fingers through her hair in the water, she remembered waking to find that it had been brushed for her. She tried in vain to stop imagining how it happened. She saw a scene of her lying with her head in Diana’s lap in front of the fire, Diana’s careful hands combing through the large knots, her face untroubled in her unconsciousness. It seemed peaceful. But Isabel didn’t understand why Diana had done it. She had even made a point to find Isabel’s hairbrush, which she had surely not left lying around to give the goddess the idea. There was such attention and care in the act that it left Isabel feeling completely at sea. She grabbed one of the bottles from beside the tub and worked its contents into her hair. 

The smell of the homemade soap only made her feel more lost. 

Never having dealt with scents or soaps, she’d spent months testing and retesting formulas to make it perfect. It hadn’t been for herself, of course. It was a labor she’d taken up to spare her poor lover from irritation. They’d tried everything, but the itching, burning, and frustration of it all had pushed Isabel to make her own alternative. It had seemed so thrilling at the time to know that she could use her skills to ease the discomfort of someone she cared about. 

A sob escaped before she even realized what was happening. It didn’t make any sense. She had been using it for years without much thought, and she’d never cried over something as simple as  _ soap _ for god’s sake. But this felt so much worse than crying. It was as if everything in her had suddenly rushed to the surface, ripping through her insides in its haste to be remembered and seen and  _ felt.  _ Suddenly her chest felt as if it were collapsing. She fisted her hands in her hair and tried to breathe despite the vacuum that had opened within her. The sounds of her own sobbing were so foreign to her and that only made it all seem worse. 

_ Why  _ **_now_ ** _? _ A voice within cried. 

It was only moments later, when the sound of footsteps mixed with the shaking cries, that she realized she had screamed the question aloud.

“Isabel?” Diana called from the other side of the door. She couldn’t answer even if she had wanted to. Nothing was in her control anymore. Her body was quaking and her lungs gasped desperately for air in the rapidly shrinking space, and somehow she was trapped in the middle of the mutiny. 

After her knocking and calling went unanswered, there was a sharp crack as the door burst open, Diana nearly snapping it off its hinges. Isabel curled into herself, pulling her knees to her chest and trying to hide her face. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, but Diana knelt in the puddle without thinking twice and gently took Isabel’s wrists, guiding her hands out of their tight hold on her hair. Isabel allowed her hands to be taken, keeping her forehead pressed to her knees. The soap from her hair ran down her face and stung her eyes but she wouldn’t move and she couldn’t stop crying. Diana guided her hands back into the water and let go of her wrists, moving instead to lightly rest a hand on Isabel’s back. 

“Breathe with me, Isabel,” she said softly. She inhaled steadily, deeply enough for Isabel to hear, and exhaled in the same manner. “Just focus on me and follow my breathing.” She repeated the calm breaths until Isabel relented, focusing hard on the other woman to find some sort of relief from the static in her mind. After a few minutes of breathing with Diana, Isabel’s erratic sobs settled into silent tears.

Diana brushed Isabel’s soapy hair behind her ear and reached her other hand to lift her chin. When she lifted her head, she kept her eyes from Diana’s searching gaze, fearing that any acknowledgement of the situation would crack her again. Diana reached for the washcloth and carefully wiped the soap from her face. Isabel made no move to stop her, staring straight into the water and trying hard to keep her breathing steady despite the occasional jerking aftershocks of hyperventilation. By the time Diana began to rinse her hair, tilting her head back and wringing the cloth out above her over and over until she was clean, Isabel had stopped crying completely. Diana ran her fingers through Isabel’s hair, making sure it was completely free of leftover soap. 

Somewhere in the middle, Isabel had begun watching her. Diana was focused on her task, expression betraying nothing. But an intense focus was there in her eyes. She was purposeful in every movement, trying her hardest to remain calm, to comfort and care for Isabel. When she finished, she met Isabel’s eyes and froze for a moment, surprised to find her watching so intently. There was a long silence between them.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Isabel asked quietly. Diana opened her mouth, but no response came and she closed it again, brow furrowing in thought. 

Isabel struggled not to squirm as Diana searched her face, eyes flicking over her scars without a trace of pity, her focus turning distant before coming back to meet Isabel’s gaze.

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered. 

Another moment passed.

“Are you going to turn me in?” A ghost of a smile crossed Diana’s face.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said again.

Then she stood and picked up Isabel’s towel from where it had been kicked aside when she entered, holding it out to her. Isabel took it, keeping an arm wrapped around her knees, and watched with amusement as Diana tried her best to shut the broken door on her way out.

Perhaps Isabel wouldn't have to plan an escape after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back at the day Isabel returned home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such amazing feedback, it keeps me excited about writing!! This chapter is actually a flashback to Isabel returning home after the events of Tear You Apart (again, not fully necessary to read that first). I hope you enjoy and hopefully I'll have another update soon!

Isabel stumbled through the door. Her heart was still racing, but she had made it back unseen and that was a victory in her books. She moved through the hallway in a daze, her shoulder bumping the wall on the way to the bedroom. Once there, she dropped the ruined clothes she had been wearing and tried to analyze her current situation. There was time, a week was longer than she should need but she would still have to act fast and keep her trail clean.

_ Destroy it all _ , a voice ordered calmly. She had chemicals stowed in the fridge and the closet for such an occasion, not to mention the cyanide capsules in the lining of her jacket. It was the best way to ensure she remained in control. The game changes? Flip the table. End it on your own terms. It all had to go.

She started with the paperwork, pulling all her leftover journals from beneath her mattress and moving them out in front of the fireplace. She lit a match and dropped it onto the first loose pages. All her work--calculations and studies and corrections and field notes--turned black, curling into ash as she tore the pages from their binding and tossed them into the flames. She left the fire and the pile of her notes and went back to the bedroom to dig for anything she had missed.

Tearing through her closet, she blindly threw aside all of her clothing, letting it land wherever it fell. She could decide what she needed later, a few things to get her through to wherever she ended up. At the back of the closet, she found what she was looking for: an old shoebox full of money in various currencies, a passport under a false name, a photograph of a laughing blonde woman holding her hat to her head in front of the ocean. She stopped, dropping her passport to the floor. It had been so long since she’d seen this photograph. It was one of the only ones she had kept. She held it carefully. Sure, she’d glanced at it every time she deposited money into this box but this was… different.

Something tickled Isabel’s face and she brushed at it, the back of her hand coming away wet. 

_ No. No, no, nonononononono.  _

But it was too late. She put the picture back into the box and threw it across the room. Her heart was sinking deep into her chest and she drew in a ragged breath to fill the space it left behind. Tears kept falling but she had to move, had to keep moving.

She went to the pile of clothes on the bed and tried to pull out things she could take with her. Her hands were shaking. It all blended together, all looked the same. She couldn’t make out what was in front of her and she tried to gauge what might be useful by sense memory, feeling through everything she knew she owned. That was a mistake. The second her fingers brushed silk, she seized the garment and drew it to her chest. 

It was so stupid, so sentimental, so goddamn pathetic. She buried her face in the silk robe anyway. The robe no longer smelled like her, but it felt like her. 

_ Isabel was in their room, in their bed, her head over her lover’s heart, fingers trailing along a silk-clad shoulder, feeling the deep vibrations of her voice as she wondered aloud whether they should repaint the study. _

_ “And what color should  _ I  _ repaint the study?” Isabel asked, smirking. She laughed then, a sweet sound that Isabel could feel through her chest. _

_ “Hm… Surprise me.” _

Isabel lowered the robe from her face and tried to remember to breathe. She had to work past this weakness she was experiencing. It didn’t make sense. She had been carrying on just fine for years and it needed to continue that way if she was going to survive. But why now?

How many times had she pushed this robe aside in her closet without a second thought?

How many times had she faced death and destruction without faltering?

_ How many times would she have to bury this woman? _

She cracked. She was trapped in a room that was suddenly bursting with memories. Everything she saw, everything she touched, had some attachment she’d been blind to. Opening her dresser, she pulled out every article of clothing, finding the ones she’d hidden at the bottom. Such beautiful blouses with more color than Isabel had ever dared to wear. Every one of them was there in her memory, wrapped around a warm body that was then wrapped around her own.

But that morning she had been cold. Isabel had stayed the whole night through, holding on, and woken up to those glazed, half-open eyes.

She couldn’t stop the remembered feeling of that deathly cold body against her own, a chill unlike any she had ever known. 

And that was when she screamed. She wanted to break things. She wanted it to be gone, all of it, every bitter memory. It passed in a blur of grief and rage. Everything she’d ever tucked into the corners of her life was dragged out onto that bed and she tried to tear it all apart. She wanted to shred those soft fabrics and the soft thoughts that were clogging her throat and pouring from her eyes.

Her hands wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, she found herself clutching at them, running her trembling fingers over every stitch and burying herself beneath the layers of her past. She sobbed and moaned like a woman possessed until there was nothing left. She was curled in the ruins of it all. 

She slowed her breathing and tried not to think of lost love and lost wars. She tried to remove the image of the hateful Amazon and those dark, blazing eyes, staring her down as she retreated. Lying beneath all of these precious things, there was finally enough pressure to settle her. She thanked whatever gods were listening.

Isabel breathed deeply and imagined that she was buried beneath the warm earth. Underground, they would be together. And that cold body would become as warm as her own… Or perhaps she would become colder. Yes, that sounded just fine. 

She felt herself start to drift off. 

Maybe this would be it. Maybe it was the end. And if she had any dreams left, it was that when her heart stilled, a firm hand would pull her out of the pile and she would be met by blue eyes and an amused smile. Together they would laugh at the mess she had made, perhaps cry, and then leave it all behind and wander through the afterlife hand in hand. And this time she wouldn’t let go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all I've been buried in depression but I've been so grateful for everyone who has left kudos recently. It's a bit short and I may be meandering in the plot but I'm working on that so thanks for sticking with me. <3

Isabel had slept soundly and dreamlessly for the first time in a week. Something about her sudden fit in the bath had taken all the energy out of her and she was more than a little relieved at the strange mercy of it all. When she woke up, it was light out and she dressed to face her houseguest. She had been offered assistance and after last night’s incident she was willing to trust that Diana may actually understand how to help. 

Diana was once again cooking in the kitchen, but Isabel was glad to see she had left the striped apron on its hook this morning. As Isabel opened her mouth to speak, Diana cut her off without turning away from the stove.

“After last night, I did some thinking. There may be a cause for what’s happening to you.” She slid scrambled eggs out of the pan and onto a clean plate and then bent to take two slices of bread out of the oven.

“Did you buy this food?” Isabel pictured the tall, conspicuous woman walking through markets and shops, picking out foods she thought Isabel might tolerate.

“I don’t intend to make you live off of soup.”

“And what exactly  _ do _ you intend?” Diana gave her a look and ignored the question, instead turning back to spread butter onto the bread.

“As I was saying, I believe there is a reason this is happening.”

“Excellent. Then there should be a way to stop it. What do you believe is going on?”

Diana picked up the plate and held it out to Isabel.

“I will only tell you if you eat first.”

“Why would you mention having a theory if you don’t intend to tell me what it is?”

“I thought you could use motivation.”

“I’m not-”

“Not hungry, I know. But you are lying and either way, you need to work yourself up to eating regularly.” Isabel crossed her arms and opened her mouth to argue. “You are losing body mass and strength, and a lack of proper nutrition will only worsen the other symptoms.” Isabel’s brow furrowed and she looked at the plate for a moment in silence.

“Symptoms? Of what?” That had hooked her, Diana was sure.

“If you eat, I will tell you.” There was a small stalemate as Isabel considered the value of Diana’s possible ideas. Diana kept the plate held out until finally Isabel reached out and took it. She grabbed a fork from a drawer, examining it briefly.

“I see you’ve cleaned the silverware as well,” she said flatly. She turned to leave the kitchen. “Come. You talk and I will eat.” Diana turned off the oven, placed the pans in the sink and followed Isabel into the living room. She sat on the opposite end of the sofa and faced Isabel, keeping her mouth closed and watching the other woman expectantly. “Go on.” 

Diana looked pointedly at the plate and back up at Isabel. Isabel followed her gaze and appeared to consider arguing before sighing and stabbing her fork into the eggs. It looked as though the thought of eating was physically painful, but Diana was pleased when Isabel eventually took a small bite and then another. The way she ate was curious to Diana, carefully avoiding chewing with the scarred side of her mouth and holding her hand close to her mouth to obscure as much of the act as she could. She set down the fork and tilted her head back to sigh in annoyance.

“I am not a spectacle. You can stop staring and start explaining your theory now.” She picked up a piece of toast, making a show of taking a bite before using the bread to gesture for Diana to begin. Diana faltered slightly at realizing she’d been caught staring but she nodded and obeyed Isabel.

“I have seen firsthand the influence that the gods can have on human minds. I believe that despite your admission of your own actions, you were being influenced by Ares.”

Isabel stopped chewing and frowned. She swallowed and spoke slowly, as if to a child.

“I was aware of my actions, Diana. I made my own choices.”

“Yes, but I believe you made them for a reason. You told me you felt no remorse. I believe that perhaps your capacity for emotion was--”

“Ridiculous.” Isabel set down the piece of toast and pushed the plate away from her on the table. “I am not under a fairytale curse. I know what I am and I know what I’ve done. My lack of remorse isn’t an indication of some meddling within my mind, it is simply that I do not care.”

“You used to,” Diana shot back without hesitation. Isabel’s jaw tensed, Diana’s eyes drawn briefly to the way her scars twitched.

“You don’t know anything about the way I used to be. That is no longer who I am.”

“And when did that change?” Isabel did not respond. “Isabel, you must have seen the soldiers after Ares’ defeat. You had to notice the difference. Some of them were young, only just drafted. I have reason to believe that the change was different for you, that recovering from it will be different for you because of the amount of influence Ares exerted over you  _ over time _ .”

“Some sort of prolonged exposure to a god turning me into a monster? You realize that sounds absurd.”

“Absurd is not impossible. You’ve seen my strength, why would you doubt his?” Isabel stared at her for a long time. She sighed.

“What do you believe happened to me under this influence?”

“You screamed last night. I don’t need to know why or what you were experiencing but I know that you were upset. You said ‘Why now?’ and that made me think about why you may suddenly be experiencing such intense emotion. The biggest change would be the defeat of Ares. I believe he was somehow exerting power over you to repress any feelings that would impact your ability to cause the destruction he was seeking. You were chosen for your intelligence and then he removed any conscience that would keep you from using it for his purposes.” Isabel stared at her. “You haven’t always been this way, have you?”

Isabel closed her eyes and leaned back against the sofa.

“He is not why I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?”

She’d said too much. This was a topic she had been trying to avoid--and yet part of her wanted to pour it all out. She had carried it all with her, tied up neatly in a little box in her head, with all the surviving mementos buried in the darkest recesses of her closet. And it had worked for so long. Six years and she hadn’t felt anything about it until now. A hand brushed hers.

“Isabel,” Diana said gently. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” The words came out shaky and she felt a tear trail down her cheek. She groaned. “Again? I have never cried so much in my life. How do other people have so many emotions all the time?” Diana chuckled lightly at her deflection but she had succeeded in changing the subject and for that she was grateful.

“You’ll get used to it again eventually.” Her hand was still resting on Isabel’s. It only made Isabel cry harder. “I’m sorry. I just want you to understand what’s happening to you. It may get worse before it gets better and I want to help you with it.”

Isabel steadied her breathing and turned her head. She opened her eyes and examined the other woman carefully. Diana’s stomach fluttered at the intense scrutiny, the intensity in Isabel's red-rimmed eyes, but she held the woman’s gaze to ensure that she knew Diana had nothing to hide. Isabel finally looked away and sat up straight.

“Okay,” Isabel said simply. “I accept your help on the condition that you do not turn me over to the authorities until I am… Until I have recovered. I won’t face them like this.” She wiped her tears carefully and looked back over at Diana.

“Yes,” Diana replied quickly. “I promise I’ll make no contact with any authorities until you are well enough.”

“You had planned on that already, hadn’t you?” Diana smiled and Isabel felt her own lips twitch in response.

“You are in good hands, Isabel.”

She only nodded and wondered if Diana would ever look at her like that again if she knew the truth.


End file.
